


The Warrior

by noseyimag



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A bit of an AU??, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Death, Developing Friendships, Experimentation, Family Issues, Fighting, Guns, I use google translate so I apologize, Not really though, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Violence, Young Teenage Reader, i really don't know what to tag this, other languages, reunited, this whole thing is a mess, vague depictions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-05-27 01:09:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15013412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noseyimag/pseuds/noseyimag
Summary: (UPDATE: currently rewriting the chapters that are already up and finishing new chapters!!)"New York."It played through the nine year old's mind like a record as she silently flipped through the atlas in her hands. She couldn't find it anywhere in South Africa, so she flipped the page again."New York."The words stuck out to her, screaming and jumping off the page. She lightly brushed her fingers over the white print that stood out against the green of the map. She found it in North America, almost at the edge of the continent. She studied it a bit longer before she heard people coming. Slamming the book shut, she put it back on the shelf and ran back to her room."I'm going to New York."





	1. Zero

The room smelled cold and like dirt. It seemed like it should be wet and dark, but the fluorescent lights swinging and squeaking ever so slightly above her head said otherwise. The air was drier than a desert. Or maybe that was just her mind making things seem worse than they were. 

But it felt like the lights were burning her skin, melting it off. Or perhaps they were blinding her. She hadn’t moved much, or opened her eyes, since today’s testing session. 

“Testing,” she thought. That word was incredibly incorrect. “More like torture.”

She shifted in her barely-a-mattress mattress. As soon as her back rubbed against her t-shirt, her jaw clenched, keeping a scream from escaping her burning throat. The last time she screamed, the light bulbs in the hallway exploded. But the people, scientists, torturers, weren’t mad. No, they were thrilled, actually. That meant that, whatever they were doing to her, was working.

She can’t remember where exactly in the world she was. It’s been so long since she’s been outside, or seen a map. But, she sometimes sees people who had just come back from outside. They were usually dressed heavily, scarves wrapped around their faces. She assumed she was in some sort of tundra. The language the people spoke was her native language, whether she was born in that country or not. She also spoke 7 other languages. Her whole life before now was a mystery to her. When she was younger, she assumed everyone else in the world had been born into this life. All of her earliest memories were of her room, the people. She started certain training at 5 and physical training when she was 9, lessons when she was 6, and the ‘sessions’ when she was 10. 

Training, in her mind, was just as bad as the sessions. Sometimes it was pushing her to the limits of her newfound “abilities”, sometimes it was sparring with others, who were more well off in a muscular sense. But on occasion, there would be a man there to help with her physical training. He was tall and, quite honestly, terrified her. His left arm was metal and she never thought she wanted to know how that came to be. From what she’d heard from he others around her, he was probably the strongest man in the world.

She could tell when they trained. While he didn’t go completely easy on her, his hits weren’t as hard as they’d be on someone bigger and older than her. Maybe that was his own choice, maybe that was the “scientists’” choice. She’d never know. 

When he spoke, she’d relax, ever so slightly. His voice never sounded like it should come from that scary of a man. When she looked into his eyes, they seemed sad. Maybe even confused, like he didn’t know why he was doing any of this. Or maybe she was making things up to make things seem better than they were.

She never knew his name, being told to only address him as “Sir” or “Soldier” in Russian. She thought it was useless to say anything to him at all. To her, it was obvious he knew when someone was even near him. It was almost impossible to see, but his shoulders slightly shifted, his right foot would move in the slightest. But because of the experiments, she saw it.

Her senses were completely amped up. Her eyesight was amazing, her strength could compete with Captain America’s, not that she even knew who that was. She could probably hear a pin drop from a mile away. She could feel the electricity in the air on her fingertips. She was stronger and smarter than any other eleven year old in the world, but she wasn’t “any other eleven year old”. She wasn’t normal, and would never be normal again.

She sighed and opened her eyes slowly, getting used to the squeaking and buzzing lights above her. She pushed herself to sit up and rubbed her face. She felt the buzz of the electrical current move up her arms and to her fingertips. The hairs on her arms stood up. The lights above her dimmed with the squeeze of her hand. Her movements were slow to her, but fast to anyone else. She threw her legs over the side of her bed, and walked to the tiny table on the other side of the room. She liked to draw, so the scientists had given her some paper and a couple pencils. There was also a lamp that had no purpose, it barely gave off light, it was just something for her to toggle with.

One nicer thing they’ve done for her.

She grabbed a pencil and a sheet of paper, sitting criss cross on the hard floor. She wrote the date on the top of the page. 

“November 12, 2011”

She discreetly moved her fingers, taking out the camera in the corner of the room. She wrote as quickly as she could, knowing that the camera would return to normal in barely a minute. 

“Today’s session wasn’t as bad as it was last time. Maybe I’m getting used to it. Maybe they have no need for me anymore but I highly doubt that. From what I’ve heard, I’m the only surviving one left. Out of all of the children, I’m the only one left. They either don’t want to push the limits of what my body can handle, or it’s almost finished. What comes after that I don’t know. But I’m not going to find out. I’m leaving. I’m breaking myself out. And I know exactly where I’m heading.

My name is (Y/n), I know I’m almost 12 years old now. My parents are dead, that’s what I’ve been told, and shown. I’m stronger and faster than I should be. I can take down a grown man in four seconds. I can feel and do things no normal person should be able to. I’m not normal.”

She heard the camera starting up once again, and quickly put the paper under her mattress, along with the other ones. She grabbed a piece of paper started drawing a tree, with the date on top of the paper like the last one. The lamp on the table dimmed and brightened a bit as her stomach filled with excitement with the thought of leaving. She smiled down at the paper and continued drawing the tree.


	2. One

2 Years, 2 Months, and 1 Day Later  
Upper Manhattan, New York  
January 13, 2014  
6:42 am

 

A fourteen year old girl quietly grabbed her backpack, placing it slowly on the bed while sitting down. She grabbed her shoes and slid them onto her feet, cringing every time the bed squeaked even a little. The morning light peeked through the curtains of the room, making it a little easier for her to see her surroundings. She peered behind her while tying her shoes, making sure everyone was still asleep. She grabbed her bag and put it on her shoulders. After quickly fixing her bed, she started to silently tiptoe around the other girls’ belongings. Well, as silently as she could. 

“The floorboards in this place are ancient.” She thought. One girl, about a year younger than herself stirred, and (Y/n) stopped moving. She held her breath and watched the young girl twist around, only to finally stop and push her head back into her pillow. After a minute, (Y/n) kept walking. She accidentally kicked someone’s book-bag during her trek to the door and thanked the universe that it didn't make much noise. She silently sighed in relief when she reached the exit. The door creaked while opening and closing. Dread washed through her as she thought about going down the stairs. The floors were bad but the stairs were worse. It sounded like a wailing animal with every step. (Y/n) walked over to the top of the carpet clad steps, thinking of her escape plan. The stairs taunted and laughed at her, but she knew how to get down silently. Grabbing onto the railing, (Y/n) threw her left leg over the railing, and slid down her belly slowly. Once she almost reached the bottom of the railing she threw her legs over the other side of it and slowly lowered herself onto the floor. She specifically avoided the very bottom of the railing, knowing from past experience that the floor right in that spot was louder than the others. Though, as soon as her feet touched the floor, she knew she had been caught.

(Y/n) whipped around to see Sister Victoria, the old woman who ran the orphanage she lived in. She was an old nun, but she was sweet as can be. Her eyes, a gorgeous mix of green and golden, had wrinkles around them from years of smiling and age. Her skin was tan and wrinkled. Sister Victoria was short, only about 5 feet tall. Her face usually held a warm smile, but at the moment her face simply held the look that said "Were you going to tell me you were leaving?", pursed lips, a raised eyebrow, a glimmer in her eyes, and her arms crossed with one hip jutted out. Which is a look (Y/n) got mostly every morning she went out. Which also meant (Y/n) knew what was about to come from the old nun's mouth.

So (Y/n), awkwardly, played it out. She turned around and looked at her caretaker, smiling innocently. A little too innocently. 

“Heeeeey,” she paused and quietly sighed, still smiling. She didn't smile often, and it was beginning to hurt her cheeks. “Sister, what-what are you doing up so early?” The pitch of her slightly accented voice rose a little. Sister Victoria was the one person she had a hard time lying to. And (Y/n) was, sadly, a good liar. 

Sister Victoria rose her eyebrow a little higher, giving (Y/n) a knowing look. One slight head tilt from the woman and (Y/n) was down. Her shoulders slumped and her smile was gone with a sigh. The teenager looked down to the hard wood floors and leaned back onto the railing of the staircase, crossing her arms. The contents of her book-bag poked into her back annoyingly. She felt bad for trying to leave without telling her again. Sister Victoria's knowing look went away, replaced by one of sympathy. Her arms dropped, her hands instead holding the other as she walked towards the sulking teenager.

Sister Victoria reached out and unhooked (Y/n)'s arms from the other and held her hands. (Y/n) looked up guiltily, squeezing Sister Victoria's thin fingers. Before the nun could even open her mouth, (Y/n) began speaking.

"I don't want to keep reminding you, but we talked about this." (Y/n) looked back down to their hands, thinking of her next words. "I appreciate everything you've done, sincerely. And you know I trust your judgement as much as my own, but school is completely different and foreign to me, and I see it as useless. Why would I actually participate if I already know what I'd be learning? It's a waste of time and I have things I have to do, Sister. I know I should've told you I was leaving." Her voice was steady the entire time she spoke, but her accent thickened as she ranted, showing how deeply she felt about the subject.

“I know.” Sister Victoria shook her head and looked down at their hands as well. Her voice was clear and rang like a bell around the silent, spacious room. “Though you actually going to school would keep me from worrying about you all day, I know you’re just doing what you believe is best, and that you can take care of yourself.” She looked (Y/n) in the eyes, a cheeky look on her face. She brought one hand up and pinched (Y/n)'s cheek lightly in a loving manner. “If you ever change your mind, I truly believe you could skip a grade, get into one of those science high schools early.” 

(Y/n) smiled at the shorter woman, shaking her head a little. Sister Victoria was one of the only people who truly believed in her, and she appreciated everything she did for her. And she did a lot for (Y/n). She picked her up off the street, gave her a place to live, food and clothes. She even lied, saying she was homeschooling (Y/n). Simply because she believed in her talents and that school would only hold her back. 

She was also the only person who knew about her past, and would do anything to keep those people from ever getting to her again.

(Y/n) looked into Sister Victoria’s eyes. 

“Thank you. You know you won’t regret anything!” (Y/n) started to walk backwards towards the old wooden and glass door. She shifted the book-bag on her back and smiled at the old woman, who looked at the fourteen year old like she was forgetting something. (Y/n) furrowed her eyebrows, but continued out the door. Then it hit her.

“Money! Whoops, ha, I’ll just-” 

She ran back into the building to grab the bills from her hand. It wasn't much, she didn't need a lot for her daily journey, but Sister Victoria always insisted she took some money with her just in case. (Y/n) stuffed the money into her back pocket and was on her way.

“See you later, Sister!”

 

\--

There was a slight pep in her step, a tune of some song playing into her headphones being hummed. Her hands held onto the straps of her book-bag and, despite her happy body language, her face was hard and showed no emotion. The young girl showed no emotion towards people she didn’t know well. The sidewalk wasn’t as crowded as it is later in the day, but there were still a few people coming and going. People going to work, walking to school, stepping outside to smoke. The sun was up, but the morning was still cold. There was frost still on the grass in the park she always walked by, and her breath came out in little white clouds. The street lights were turning off and traffic was starting up. 

She stopped at a crosswalk and pulled out her phone, skipping through her music and waiting for the little walking person to come up across the street. A few more people started gathering around her, waiting as well. She moved forward a little, not appreciating the crowded feeling. Or the eyes she felt on her. While it wasn't odd t get looked at in public, these eyes felt different. Like they were studying her, and she didn't like that. She didn't like it at all. (Y/n) continued toggling with her phone as normal, not turning around to see who was staring at her. That would just make it worse. Kinda awkward, too. When the signal to go came up, she was the first to walk across, distancing herself from whoever was staring at her.

After about a minute, the feeling went away and she internally relaxed. While yes, she could physically handle herself, she didn't want that kind of attention drawn towards her. Nor did she even want to have to use those skills. She stopped by a little 24 hour convenience store to grab something to eat before she went on with her day. The ding of the bell was never a foreign sound, and when the owner smiled and waved, she smiled and waved back. She came into this store every morning and knew the owner well. 

Grabbing a drink and a small breakfast like snack, she walked up to the counter, eyeing the candy underneath. Pop rocks were always something that interested (Y/n), but she never wasted her money on them. She didn’t have much on her to begin with, and she was worried she wouldn’t like them. That’d be a waste.

The owner, Mrs. Ricci, smiled at (Y/n) as she placed her items on the counter. Mrs. Ricci was about the same height as (Y/n). She was 46 years old and had long, curly hair. Her eyes were a beautiful brown color. The Italian woman’s olive skin had barely any wrinkles except around her eyes and mouth from years of smiling. She was a plump woman who, despite not looking it, was actually strangely strong.

“Good morning (Y/n). Busy day ahead?” Her accent wasn’t very heavy, and sounded nice to (Y/n)’s ears.

(Y/n) chuckled at the woman while pulling her money from the back pocket of her jeans. 

“Good morning Mrs. Ricci. Yes, as always. How’s Dominick?” Dominick was Mrs. Ricci’s 15 year old son. Mrs. Ricci was always trying to have them hang out, but he wasn’t a very compliant person. He also said that he doesn’t hang out with “children”, the child being (Y/n). 

The woman just laughed while taking the money. “He’s still Dominick.” And it made perfect sense. 

“Do you want a bag?” Mrs. Ricci asked. (Y/n) stuck her tongue out for a second, contemplating. She sighed and looked at the clock. 7:30.

“Uhhh, yeah. The stuff in my backpack would probably squish it, y’know?” 

Mrs. Ricci shook her head while putting the two items in a plastic bag. She handed the bag to (Y/n).

“I do and don’t know what you mean. I never know what in that bag of your’s.”

(Y/n) wrapped the handle of the bag around her hand and stepped away from the counter. She put her pointer finger up to her lips and smiled. 

“It’s a secret. Have a great day, Mrs. Ricci!” She waved and walked towards the door. Mrs. Ricci shook her head and waved at (Y/n)’s retreating figure. 

“You too (Y/n)! You be careful!”

The bell on the door dinged and she was on her way again, breakfast in her hand. She adjusted the straps on her bag, hearing the contents rustle around. The streets were a little more busy now, people were walking and speaking rapidly on their cell phones, a couple people on bikes or skateboards made their way through.

(Y/n) politely made her way onto the sidewalk and started walking again. That was the only stop she had to make before she got to her own little hideout. She put her headphones back in and started humming the tune of the song playing on her phone. The air smelled like winter and it was sort of calming.

Then she felt it again. Like she was being watched, followed. She almost whipped around to see who it was, but she held it back. She had been trained for almost all of her life how to handle this kind of situation. Even if she liked to pretend that that part of her life never happened, she still used those skills. So she wasn’t going to make any dumb mistakes.

She walked as normal, her body language never changing. She did her best to figure out who was following her, and how many there were. She breathed in deeply, staying silent while doing so, and focused on the footsteps. There were about five people around her walking in the same direction. That’s all she could tell from just focusing. She wasn’t going to drive them away, no if they were following her, and it wasn’t just a feeling, they’d follow her all the way to where she was going. And where she was going wasn’t somewhere in the open, so they’d be the only ones following her.

She put her hands in her jacket pockets, her dominant hand holding onto the pink pocket knife she kept with her at all times. She took a left at the next corner, the buildings started be less and less. The teen ran across the street, a car honking at her quickly. A couple more turns and she had arrived to what used to be a storage area for old tech. But now, it was abandoned, and a perfect workshop for a school ditching, extremely smart, orphaned fourteen year old.

The feeling of being followed was gone, but (Y/n) still kept her guard up. She jogged the rest of the way to the storage building. When she got there, she immediately started to open the large, creaky doors. She felt safe inside the dreary, dusty building. It was dark, cold, and just far enough away from the bustling city traffic to be quiet, but not completely silent. Which made it perfect for (Y/n) to be alone. Others might be a little more afraid, seeing these types of places in horror movies, but not (Y/n). She had never seen a horror movie, so she didn’t see a reason to be afraid. Plus, she could kick a man three times her size down in under a minute. She felt safe alone in a place like this. 

(Y/n) tugged on the door to make sure it was closed tightly, before wrapping an old cable from the floor around the handles. Just to make sure no one found her secret workshop.

She wiped her hands on her jeans and exhaled slowly, smiling at the broken computers and T.V.s lying on the ground. She stepped over the scrap, walking towards a ladder with unlit Christmas lights wrapped around the side bars. She hopped up and gripped onto a bar to pull it down. When (Y/n) heard the clang of metal on metal, she started to climb. She crawled onto the platform and pulled the ladder back up so that no one could climb up there as well. She put an old bike lock around the bar of the ladder and a railing. The landing was like a little room. There were some pillows, a couple sheets acting as walls, and a rug. There were two large sheets sewn together and tied above the landing for a roof. There was a tattered folding lawn chair and a small wooden table that (Y/n) had built herself from scrap wood she found in an alley way. Christmas lights hung from around the railings and the lawn chair. There were about four magazines and a couple torn up books that she’d gotten from the library lying on the homemade table. They were throwing them out, so she took them with her. She obviously gave some to the orphanage as well. She had read them all fairly quickly, enjoying the fantasy section most. The teenager found it exciting, and sometimes found herself wishing she could fight orcs, saving princesses and townsfolk. Then reality hit her, and she called herself foolish and childish for even thinking that way.

She got to her feet and walked over to a wooden box. She stepped up on the box and pushed a slit in the sheets to the side, allowing her to step on the railing and showing the railing to the next landing. (Y/n) grabbed the railing above her, pulling herself up onto the landing. The steps that connect the previous area to the top landing were rusted and (Y/n) simply didn’t trust them. She threw her legs over the railing and pushed herself off. When her feet hit the floor she started walking over to a large, metal table that had a billion things on it. Wires, pliers, disassembled computers, a bunch of sharp metal and tools. There was also a lamp, a stool, and a worn notebook with paper almost spilling put of it. (Y/n) sped up slightly, excited to finally get to work. 

The lamp was switched on with a twitch of her finger. The colorful lights around the little nook followed suit. She cleared a space on the table and put her book-bag and plastic bag down onto it. She took her jacket off, revealing a loose black long sleeve shirt. She put her phone on the table and let the music play softly out loud. (Y/n) unzipped her bag and started pulling everything out. A pair of tinted goggles, a couple tools, some parts, and the actual project. She grabbed the pieces she needed and laid them in front of her. Cracking open the drink she had bought earlier, she took a long sip. 

(Y/n) slipped on her goggles and held up her pointer and middle finger on her dominant hand. A bolt electricity bounced between the two fingers until it stayed steady, looking almost like a taser. She grabbed her project and brought her hand forward, getting to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know the last chapter thing sucked lmao I didn't know what I was doing. I'm a learning writer and I definitely do not take constructive criticism. Also I never introduced myself. I'm called Nosey, I'm 17 years old, and this is my story The Warrior! This story, I believe, is going to be multiple books, and it's going to play into the MCU! I've actually been working on his for months. My update schedule will be messy, because I'm a teen and I have things to do, but I'll try to be consistent. My tumblr is noseyimagines and I do write there, but I've really only posted one thing just because my schedule keeps me from doing much. Thank you for checking out my story, and I hope you like it!


	3. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of the past.

_It smelled cold again. The feeling of strong hands clad in leather gloves holding onto her small shoulders, and the cold cement under her bare feet are the most prominent things she could feel. The sound of the two soldier’s boots clicking on the ground felt so loud, but she didn’t flinch._

 

_She can remember all too well where they were going. The hallway felt longer and darker, but she knew. It was a session day. Anxiety built in her stomach at the thought of the needles and tubes. The electricity._

 

_All of a sudden she was in that chair again, hallway completely forgotten. They were hooking her up, strapping her arms and legs down. One leather strap went around her chest and another around her knees. The large machinery with tiny needles was lowered, encasing parts of her arms, legs, neck, and stomach. The needles were so close, if she slightly shifted her leg, she’d be pricked. Someone put a rubber mouth guard in her mouth._

 

 _A mix of Russian and English words went in and out of he_ r _ears. It all sounded distorted. She barely heard them but understood all the same. Looking around, (Y/n) noticed that all the faces of the people around were smudged, she couldn’t see them. But when she looked to the right, she saw him. The Soldier. His face was the only one that wasn’t smudged._

 

_His eyebrows were furrowed, a deep frown on his lips. She noticed how much of a lighter blue his eyes looked now, compared to all the other times she’d seen them. His body language also showed he was uncomfortable. Which was different. His body language was never that easy to read._

 

_“Вы уверены, что это безопасно?” The Russian came out very quickly. His tone was stern, but his voice was still the same. Unexpected._

 

_She understood his question, though. “Are you sure this is safe?”_

 

_Of course it wasn’t, that was obvious. But the person in charge of tightening her straps still lied._

 

_“Конечно. Мы не продолжим, если это небезопасно.” The voice of the man sounded like it was underwater, and kept getting higher and lower in pitch. She could hardly understand what he said. It was something about not continuing._

 

_She focused her gaze back onto the Soldier. He looked the same, but his jaw was clenched and his arms looked stiff. He didn’t believe the other man. But then he nodded once and took a step back, away from the chair. (Y/n)’s heart dropped in fear, because despite being terrifying, he was nicer than anyone else there. He showed concern._

 

_Her arms suddenly felt cold, the blue and clear liquid in the bags dripping slowly down the tubes and into her arms. When did those get there? She felt herself getting calmer and she relaxed her head on the head rest._

 

_The man on her left started pushing buttons, then came to a large lever. He grabbed onto it, and uttered one phrase in English._

 

_“Good Luck.”_

 

—

 

With a sharp gasp through her nose, (Y/n) sat up quickly. Her head whipped around, rubbing her right eye and yawning. A little bit of drool on her cheek and the table was wiped away by the edge of her shirt. Rolling her stiff shoulders, she checked the time on her watch.

 

1:12 pm

 

She furrowed her eyebrows and looked at her project on the table, a pair of metal and rubber bracelets, finished. It wasn’t like her to just fall asleep like that, so she was a little shaken up about it. She didn’t even remember falling asleep.

 

Placing her warm cheek on the cool, metal table, she thought of her dream. The blue eyed, metal armed soldier. How his whole body basically screamed uncomfortable, untrusting. How the whole thing seemed too familiar for it to be something her brain made up. She didn’t like to think back on her past, it riled her up and would put her in a bad mood for days. But the soldier didn’t. The thought of him somehow calmed her down. Not very much, but it worked.

 

She had worked for years to put all of that into a mental vault, simply wanting to live a normal teenage life. You know, get adopted by a rich man and sing with a pretty lady? Okay, that wasn’t a normal teenage life, but really the only movie she had ever seen was Annie, and she’s seen it about a million times. She just wanted to do whatever it was that other kids her age do. Like, not be a genius and actually have to go to school? Or not be extremely strong, or have super powers. Or maybe enjoy theater or other… fourteen year old girl things? What is it that fourteen year old girls like?

 

(Y/n) was very, very bad at interacting with other people. Not like Mrs. Ricci or Sister Victoria. Those women gave off a motherly feeling to her, which she could never remember feeling, so it was easy to speak with them. When it came to the other girls in the orphanage, though?

 

She left early, and came back late for a reason.

 

The little ones always wanted to talk and play and climb on her, and the girls her age wanted to discuss interests and things from school, like boys or something. It made her very uncomfortable and she didn’t understand how it all worked. Others would call her shy, but she just called it ignorance to the subject. But, she could explain how airplanes work in detail if asked. She could fix a computer in an hour. She could build amazing things from scratch, and teach you words and sayings in 7 different languages.

 

(Y/n) sighed, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. She just wanted to forget about the dream and head back to the orphanage to grab something to eat before walking around, maybe coming back to her little room, until later. But it was just so weird to her, falling asleep so easily. She understood sometimes certain foods could make you tired, but she didn’t even remember going to sleep, much less feeling at all tired. It put a weird feeling in her stomach, it made her wary. And she had learned not to ignore those feelings.

 

“Глупый мозг.” She muttered.

 

Silently sliding off the stool, she put her project into her bag, along with her goggles, and the trash from her breakfast. She would throw it away once she got outside. Her jacket was hastily thrown on, along with her book bag, and her dead phone thrown into her pocket. The lamp switched off as soon as she passed it. The steps she made were quick, calculated, and silent. Hopping over the railing, the christmas lights shut off, leaving her in the dark, save for a few streaks of light coming in through the broken windows, and holes in the ceiling.

 

Maybe this place wasn’t the safest, but it was the most secluded.

 

She stopped for a second, slowing her breathing down and making herself practically invisible, something she tended to do when she felt even a bit threatened. She listened, now noticing the sounds of the traffic from outside. It felt louder than ever, making her ears ring and her head spin a little. Which was different. Traffic was never close enough to be this loud, and even if it was, there was no way for it to be that loud unless everyone was constantly honking into loudspeakers. Loudspeakers that were right next to her head. Covering her ears, (Y/n) clumsily made her way to the ladder. She unlocked the bike lock and lowered the ladder to the floor as silently as she could. When she heard the final click, she made her way down, skipping bars and sliding down. While hastily pushing the ladder up, she saw something from the corner of her eye move. For a second she ignored it, playing it off as shadows, but then it moved again. (Y/n) whipped her head towards that corner of the room and saw it.

 

A woman. She was clad in skinny jeans, red and black tennis shoes, and a zip up hoodie with a white t-shirt underneath it. The most noticeable thing about her, though, was her pin straight, fiery red hair. It just barely brushed against her shoulders. As she began walking closer to (Y/n), she noticed her steely blue-green eyes.

 

(Y/n) shook herself from her stupor, pushed the ladder the rest of the way up, and ran towards the doors. Running was difficult, the unusually loud traffic made her dizzy. Her legs felt weak.

 

As soon as (Y/n) pushed herself from the ladder and towards the doors, the red haired woman ran after her. She had the advantage over (Y/n), because she didn’t seem at all affected by the unusually loud noises.

 

She tackled (Y/n) onto the ground, right in front of the doors. (Y/n) grunted and used enough of her strength to flip them over and push the spy off. The red haired woman landed on her back next to (Y/n), who sent a hard kick straight to her side to push her further away. (Y/n) scrambled up, grabbing her backpack which had one of the straps ripped off. She went to open the doors and run, only to be brought back down to the ground by the woman grabbing her ankle. She pulled (Y/n) towards herself on the floor. She sat on the teenager’s back and grabbed her arms, obviously trying to put her in cuffs. (Y/n) wiggled and struggled under the woman’s grip, but she underestimated her strength. The woman was panting as she brought her wrist to her mouth. The noise of the traffic and the added weight on her back, she was left one last tactic.

 

“Fury, target is apprehended. I may need backup.” The woman’s voice sounded a little strained from the kick (Y/n) sent to her side. “She’s a little stronger than we thought.”

 

The sound of traffic seemed to die down a little, but it was still loud enough to make (Y/n)’s ears ring. With one last thrust, (Y/n) pushed with all her strength and a grunt, and threw the spy and herself backwards onto the floor. The teen picked herself up, flipped the woman over, and sat on her back as she had previously done to her. (Y/n) grabbed her arms and held them behind her back.

 

“Who are you?! Who do you work for?!” (Y/n) growled, panting in between sentences.

 

Before the woman could even answer, (Y/n) heard multiple people outside. The noise from the traffic had finally died down. She was left with a loud ringing, but her hearing was still incredible.

 

The sound of heavy boots stomping on the ground caught her attention quickly. There was no way to tell how many people there were, more than 3 she knew that. The stomping was too loud, everything around her seemed too loud. She stared at the heavy double doors she had previously been trying so hard to get through. Now, she didn’t know if she would make it.

 

“Shit.” (Y/n) quickly planned out her escape route, and set into action. With one push against the spy’s back, (Y/n) sent an electric shock into her wrists. It wasn’t enough to severely hurt her, but it acted like a stun gun. It would keep her down long enough for (Y/n) to make it out of the building.

 

The teen threw herself off the spy, and started running. She picked up her bag and ran towards one of the many pitch black rooms to her right. She remembered that one of them had a hole in the wall, big enough for her to crawl out of. It lead to the back of the building. She’d crawl out, and make it outside, hopefully without getting caught by the people outside. From there, she’d run further into the suburban area of the city. Keep away from big buildings, cameras, anything that could identify her. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t do anything suspicious. Nothing. She’d make it back to the orphanage and explain to Sister Victoria what was going on by morning.

 

After that, she didn’t know what she’d do. She really doubted she could stay in New York anymore. Right now, there was no way of really knowing who those people were, or why they wanted her. The best option was to assume they were bad, and run.

 

Running full speed into the room, (Y/n) nearly crashed into the broken chairs and desk. She just barely stumbled over a discarded piece of a broken chair. She was barely panting, but the room echoed the noise, making it sound loud. She slowed her breathing again, making herself invisible. Just as she was about to start moving the objects hiding the hole in the wall, she heard the sound of the doors up front bang against the wall. Following the bang, were many footsteps. Sentences and words were thrown around, like: “Agent Romanoff”,“Found”, and “Where is the target”.

 

It all made (Y/n)’s stomach drop. So, as quietly as she could, she started moving the old, creaky desk that was hiding her escape. It was heavy and dusty, and every move sent dust up into (Y/n)’s face, making it a little difficult to breathe. But, she was determined. She couldn’t get caught, she couldn’t be sent back to that place. She just couldn’t. (Y/n) had finally made somewhat of a life for herself. She had someone in her life who cares about her, who worried about her and wanted her to stay safe, and to check in every once in a while. For the first few years of her life, (Y/n) never got to experience that.

 

She wasn’t about to let that get taken from her.

 

So, with her own strength, she lifted the desk completely off the ground, and moved it to the other side of the room, against the door that led to the main part of the building. She started piling a few more things against it, making sure it would take a little bit to get in. Then, she got an idea. Grabbing a few discarded pieces of metal off the ground, held them against the door, and sort of welded them to the doorframe. It was a weak hold, but it would keep them out a little longer. She did this a couple more times towards the bottom of the door and backed away. Without a second thought, the teen turned around and made her way towards the hole in the wall.

 

It was small, in the bottom right corner of the wall. It was barely visible, but (Y/n) knew it was there. A little sliver of light peeked through it and lit up the dusty, dirty ground. Dust visibly floated around in the light. (Y/n) dropped to the floor, and crawled towards it. First, she threw her backpack out. She wouldn’t fit through it if the bag were on her back. After the bag was fully pushed out, she started wedging herself through. Her arms went out first, so she could grab on to the wall and push herself out. She wiggled and kicked a little bit to fasten the pace. Her head popped out and she looked around, wanting to fully make sure no one was back here. Then, she pulled herself out fully. As soon as she was out, she jumped onto her feet, grabbed her bag, and started running.

 

Running was the only thing she could think of. Her arms were pumping, her legs were moving, and her mind had only one thing on it. Run.

 

She hadn’t felt like that since… Since before New York. Since that place, where she grew up. Not a home, only a place.

 

She hated the feeling, but it was the only way to make it out without being caught. So she ran, and she ran. She weaved through people, ran across streets, skipped through yards. (Y/n) ran for a long time, until she felt she was far enough away.

 

Which happened to be in a more run down area. Most of the houses were falling apart, missing windows, junk in the yard. Abandoned. There were dogs barking from yards, a couple stray ones ran across the street. Sometimes she heard shouting from somewhere, and she could only hope it wasn’t anything bad. A couple kids would ride by on old rusty bikes, their friends following behind, trying to keep up. The street lights were starting to turn on, as the sun had started setting. Did she really run that long for it to be getting dark already?

 

(Y/n) put the hood of her jacket up and her hands in the pockets, looking around more. There were puddles of melted snow in the middle of the road, filling up potholes. Despite everything that just happened, and where she was, she couldn’t beat the urge to step in one. Quickening her pace for just a second, the fourteen year old stomped in one of the bigger puddles, and giggled when the water came up and splashed her leg. She couldn't stop herself from the childish act. Her day had been tough, and it felt good to act her age. But then the dread of the day’s event came back, and she stepped away from the puddle.

 

Her footsteps were quiet. There was constant background noise in this neighborhood, so she wasn’t worried about the sound giving her away or anything like that. She had to figure out where she was, and how she was going to get home. Back to the orphanage and away from the people back at the warehouse. She had a lot of time to think and try to figure out who they were, what they wanted, and what she was going to do once she got back.

 

So with that, (Y/n) started walking down the sidewalk, looking out to the city in the distance, planning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // Translations
> 
> Russian: Вы уверены, что это безопасно
> 
> English: Are you sure that this is safe?
> 
> Russian: Конечно. Мы не продолжим, если это небезопасно
> 
> English: Of course. We will not continue if it is unsafe
> 
> Russian: Глупый мозг.
> 
> English: Stupid brain. //
> 
> I’m not really happy with this chapter. I’m super shitty at writing fight scenes. I felt like I was either describing too much or too little ugh. I also had to write and edit ALL OF THIS on my phone. Anyways I hope you guys like it.


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